Chapter 9
Lottie
Here’s how the last hour went down: we headed back to the house where I changed the boys while Lyla Nell gave Ava and Olivia the grand tour of their room.
They unpacked their suitcases with all the enthusiasm of two girls assigned to clean toilets, then spent the next twenty minutes chasing Pancake and Waffles around the house.
Pancake and Waffles would be my sweet fluffy white cats—a couple of Himalayan brothers who are my very best friends in the world. No one snuggles like they do. No one purrs quite as loud. And no one judges me quite as hard when I eat ice cream straight from the carton at midnight.
And well, before we left, Ava and Olivia insisted that much like Lyla Nell, they, too, need emotional-support animals.
And of course I told them I didn’t want to crate the cats, but Lyla Nell piped up with “Don’t worry, Lottie, I take care of it,” and sure enough she dug out their bubble backpacks—the clear kind with the little air holes—and that’s why both Ava and Olivia currently have one of my cats strapped to their backs like a furry little bombs.
Pancake does not look amused.
Waffles looks downright homicidal.
But here we are. If anyone in this family ends up on a suspect list this week, my money is on Waffles.
Followed closely by Carlotta.
And, depending on how the next hour goes... me.
The circus fairgrounds are bathed in sunshine, families milling about on the midway as if nothing sinister at all happened here last night.
Kids clutch ice cream cones, parents haggle over game booth prizes, and teenagers take selfies in front of the big top.
It’s all very normal. Very innocent. Very unlike a murder scene.
Leave it to a circus to make even a homicide look like a photo op.
I start to wander toward the front of the circus tent, and Ava perks up.
“Are we going back to the scene of the crime?” she asks, her eyes lighting up as if I just offered her backstage passes to a concert.
Carlotta chuckles. Of course Carlotta tagged along. The girls practically begged Cray Cray to save them from dissolving into boredom, and Carlotta was more than happy to oblige.
“Oh, we’re definitely going back to the scene of the crime,” Carlotta says. “You can’t solve a murder without revisiting the carnage. Besides, if Lot Lot doesn’t trip over at least three more bodies, are we even trying? She’s basically a bloodhound with better shoes.”
I shoot her a lethal look.
“Can we take pictures of the murder site?” Olivia asks.
“Absolutely not,” I say.
“Spoilsport,” Carlotta mutters.
The girls giggle, and I can already tell they’re going to gang up on me all week.
While Ava and Lyla Nell peer into the tent, Olivia has commandeered the stroller, and it’s kind of nice having someone help mind the twins and Lyla Nell. Who knows, this might just be the best week yet.
I notice a folding table set up near the entrance with a bright hand-painted sign: Sign Up for the Local Legends Circus Benefit! Next Saturday Night! All Proceeds Benefit the Honey Hollow Youth Athletics Program!
I wander over to check it out, and quickly scan the clipboard.
“Huh,” I say, arching a brow. “Noah Fox is the first name on the list.” I pause, tapping my finger on the incriminating evidence.
“Not to disparage Noah, but he’s never the first to sign up for these kinds of things,” I say to Carlotta.
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he wants to spend as much time with a potential killer as possible. ”
“That explains what he’s doing with you, Lot,” Carlotta says, picking up the clipboard.
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.” She grins. “Besides, you and Noah have that whole ‘will they, won’t they’ thing going on. It’s very romantic in an it’s-about-to-get-X-rated sort of way.”
“We already did,” I remind her. “And then we didn’t. And now I’m married to someone else. And what are you doing?” I ask, watching her scribble her name in loopy cursive. “Are you actually signing up to perform next Saturday night?”
“You bet your sticky honey buns I am,” Carlotta says, hitching her thumbs into her bra straps and rocking back on her heels with a touch of pride written on her face.
I hate when she does that, and pray the girls don’t see it so they won’t replicate it. For reasons unknown to me, they seem to look up to her. There’s a red flag if ever there was one.
She nods my way. “If I want to hang out with a bunch of sweaty, strong men all week, I need to infiltrate their ranks. It’s called a strategy, Lot Lot.”
“It’s called a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Six of one, half a dozen of felonies,” she counters.
My eyes scan the list and I note quite a few names I know on there. Mayor Nash. A few deputies. Some locals I recognize from town council meetings. And then I spot one very familiar name, and my breath hitches.
“Hey, Keelie’s name is on here,” I say in shock.
“That would explain why I saw her truck out in the parking lot,” Carlotta says.
“You did?”
“Yep. Her truck has a bumper sticker that says ‘I Brake for Corn Dogs.’ Very on-brand for a circus.”
“That’s because she’s married to a corn dog,” I say without hesitation. As much as I like Keelie and Bear together, I happen to know what a corn dog he can be. After all, I dated him first.
We wander toward the tent and follow the girls inside, and lo and behold, I walk in just in time to see my bestie hurtling through the air, flipping once, twice, and landing on the safety net with a giggle.
That is so like Keelie. Face death and laugh about it, too. On second thought, that’s sort of like me, too. I guess that’s why we get along so well.
“Auntie Keelie!” Lyla Nell shouts with all her might, so loud and strong the veins bulge from the sides of her neck. She’s determined, I’ll give her that.
Before we know it, Keelie bounces over in light blue yoga pants and a matching jacket, her blonde ponytail swinging.
Keelie is blonde, bubbly, and has been my perpetual ride-or-die since preschool.
But that doesn’t mean I’ve told her about my supernatural quirk.
I just never wanted her to look at me any differently than she did.
I love Keelie as much as my sisters, more on some days.
“Lyla Nell!” she laughs as she scoops up my little cupcake. “And Ava and Olivia!” She pulls them into a group hug. “Did you girls sign up for the benefit?”
“Oh, can we?” Ava pleads my way, and Pancake belts out a yowl from his plastic imprisonment.
“Please, please,” Olivia begs with her hands folded in prayer.
“Lottie Lemon!” Lyla Nell shouts my name like a reprimand. “Say yes!”
“We’ll see,” I offer, which is Mom Code for I’m buying myself time to figure out how to say no without causing a riot.
They all chat, and Carlotta makes a few hilarious quips about the aerialists before announcing she’s off to do some strongman reconnaissance and takes off in the direction of a very muscular gentleman lifting what appears to be an actual anvil.
Somewhere out there, Mayor Nash’s blood pressure just spiked, and he doesn’t even know why.
Keelie nudges me and points across the tent. “Bear’s here too.”
I follow her gaze and spot her husband trying to learn how to juggle bowling pins. He’s doing okay until one of them bonks him on the head rather painfully.
“Oh geez,” I gasp. “He should probably be wearing a helmet.”
Ava and Olivia’s mouths fall open.
“Who is Bear?” Olivia asks, hardly able to take her eyes off of him.
“That’s my handsome hottie husband,” Keelie is quick to tell them with a touch of pride. “And I got the bling to prove it.” She flaunts the rock on her finger their way, and they gasp once again.
Clearly, they’re easily impressed.
“Wow, you’re lucky to have a hot guy like that to come home to,” Olivia tells her, still salivating in Bear’s direction.
I’ll admit, Bear is a hottie with his dirty blond hair and a body built by all the outdoorsy work he does. Bear happens to own a successful construction business, and he’s got that rugged, capable thing going on that makes people either want to hire him or marry him. Sometimes both.
“Don’t you think he’s hot, Lottie?” Ava asks, hardly tearing her eyes away from him for a second.
“Of course she does,” Keelie says, grinning. “Why else would she have dated him all through high school?”
Both girls whip their heads toward me as if I’ve been keeping the secret of the century from them.
“Wait, what?” Ava gasps.
“You dated Bear?” Olivia practically shrieks.
“It’s ancient history,” I say, waving a hand.
“Lottie gets all the hot guys that Honey Hollow has to offer,” Ava says, shaking her head. “So not fair.”
“At least she shared with you,” Olivia says to Keelie, and they both dissolve into giggles.
I didn’t really share anything. I dumped Bear because he couldn’t stop cheating on me. But thankfully he cleaned up his act by the time he got around to dating Keelie.
I spot Lavinia off to the side of the tent, practicing throwing knives at a wall covered in balloons. Each knife sails clean and lands hard, and the balloons surrender with a series of pops.
Oh wow, she’s alone too. How I would love to trot over and shake her down. After all, she admitted it was her knife buried in Jumping Barnaby’s chest. In my experience, the knife rarely strays far from its owner. Neither does the motive.
Keelie offers to show the girls some of the easier acrobatics on the trampoline if it’s okay with me, and I nod. “Yes, go. Have fun. Try not to break anything.”
Keelie takes Lyla Nell by the hand.
“Bye, Lottie,” my little girl trills, and it’s hard not to smile.
Olivia wheels the stroller over. “I’ll watch the cats and the boys. I’m not a fan of heights.”
She takes the boys, both the human and feline variety, and they all follow Keelie toward the trampolines.
I glance back at Lavinia, who’s just nailed three balloons in rapid succession.
“I’m going to check on my cookies,” I call out. “I’ll catch up with you!”
Right after I check on a would-be killer.